


who needs a bodyguard?

by deceptivesoldier, moblit



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bodyguard Bucky Barnes, Bucky sucks at stoicism, Captain America Reverse Big Bang 2018, Embedded Images, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Marvel Cameos, Matchmaker Thor Odinson - Freeform, Model Steve Rogers, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, POV Alternating, Steve is a Flirt - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 03:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14824290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deceptivesoldier/pseuds/deceptivesoldier, https://archiveofourown.org/users/moblit/pseuds/moblit
Summary: “Rogers!”The door whooshes open to reveal a lithe man with haphazardly messed up blond hair and squinty blue eyes, being swallowed by a blanket.“No need to shout, Peggy. I told you I was awake,” he says, his voice low and rumbly. He looks to Bucky and hums approvingly. “That’s the ugliest suit in the world, but somehow you still look hot. If you wanna forget about being my bodyguard, you could just join me in bed,” he says flirtatiously, blinking at Bucky through way-too-long eyelashes.Ooooh, Bucky is in trouble.__Or, the one in which Steve is a flirty model, and Bucky is the bodyguard he doesn’t need.





	1. Prologue- Steve

 

Steve knows he’s in trouble when he enters Peggy’s office and sees both her _and_ Natasha waiting for him with matching glares on their faces. The only one missing from this party it seems, is Alexander the Douche.

“Hey guys, what’s up?” Steve asks when he sits down at the desk. Neither Peggy nor Natasha reply verbally, but Peggy slides something across the desk. A magazine, whose cover features a snapshot from the Boss party last night, where Steve punched photographer Jasper Sitwell in the face.

“I thought we established that you can’t go around punching people, Steve,” Peggy says tiredly.

The only reason Steve has managed to get anywhere in his career as a model is because of Peggy. A few years ago, she approached him one morning in a coffee shop (apparently those things actually do happen), and told him that if he were interested in modeling, he should call her.

Steve was floundering at the time—he had no idea what he wanted to do with his life at 19—so he figured, what the hell?

As it turns out, Peggy Carter is the best damn modeling agent there is. Male fashion models are typically very tall and decently built, and Steve Rogers is neither of those things. And yet, now 23, he has absolutely no issues finding work.

However, he’s not just a pretty face. 

“He was spiking a girl’s drink, Peggy! I wasn’t just going to stand by and let it happen,” Steve defends immediately.

“So you decided to punch him? What did Alexander want you to do?”

“Jasper Sitwell is a snake, if a shiner keeps him from spiking drinks in the future, I think it’s worth it. _Alexander_ told me to ignore it and keep walking,” Steve spits in disgust. 

“Antagonizing photographers isn’t the best thing to do in this business, Steve,” Peggy sighs, rubbing at her temples.

Natasha, who’s been quiet thus far, speaks up. “Getting yourself on the front covers of gossip magazines for punching isn’t good for you either. This is why we hired a bodyguard.”

Steve doesn’t bother to hold in his groan. “I don’t _need_ a bodyguard. Do you see Alexander around here? I sure don’t.”

Peggy narrows her eyes. “Alexander quit this morning. Said it was above his pay grade to run after an immature kid who refuses to listen to him.”

“Alexander quit?” Steve perks up immensely. Alexander Pierce was Steve’s fourth bodyguard in three months. He showed up thinking he was the shit, and that guarding Steve was going to be what solidified his reputation as the best in the business.

He was also an entitled dick.

Steve worked extra hard to get him to quit.

“He informed me that I can send the rest of the month’s pay to his forwarding address,” Peggy says. “You’re still going to be getting a new bodyguard.”

Natasha nods firmly in agreement. “You do everything for the right reasons, Steve. You want to keep people from getting hurt, which is great! But we want to keep _you_ from getting hurt.”

“I’m not going to become a quiet model without any opinions, Natasha. I’ve got this fame, this access, I should be using it to make a difference. Or at the very least to change the gross behavior that lives in this business,” Steve declares, though they’ve both heard this before. Pretty much since the bodyguard topic got brought up in the first place.

“We know.”

Steve sighs, slouching back in his chair. “Do what you have to do, I guess. But I’m not going to like whoever you’re going to bring in.”

Natasha’s lips quirk up. “Of course not, you’re a model. So picky.”

“You should see what it’s like managing them,” Peggy says.

“Oh no, I’ll just stick to their publicity.” Natasha picks up her bag and smirks at Steve. “Try to stay away from gossip mag covers? You’d think high-end models would have _standards_.”

“We’ll see, Nat.”

When she leaves, just Peggy and Steve are left.

“I suppose it’s time for me to make another call to my good friend Nick Fury, then.”

“Can you at least have him pick one that isn’t a dick this time?”

“To be fair, Nick thought that Alexander’s ego would be too big for even _you_ to pop,” Peggy chuckles and picks up her desk phone. “Go. I’ll come by with your new bodyguard soon. He should be around by the time you have the photoshoot with Sam Wilson.”

Steve gives Peggy a two-fingered salute before pulling himself out of the chair and leaving her office.

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no other chapter is as short as this one I promise
> 
> fyi i have no experience with modeling or photoshoots, so apologies for any discrepancies!!


	2. Bucky

It’s been said that a good number of people go into some sort of security work after leaving the army. Whether that be a bouncer at a bar, overnight security at some high end company, or even private detailing.

Bucky Barnes is one of those people.

He’s got a knack for anything tactical, and he was damn good at what he did in the army. Honestly if it weren’t for the IED that managed to blow his left arm right off, he’d probably still be over there.

Luckily for Bucky, he didn’t have to get used to doing things one-handed, because an innovative prosthetic guru somehow heard about his case and tracked him down in order to talk about an experimental design of his. A fully-functioning prosthetic that would connect to his nerves and to his brain—working just as well as his right arm. The guy made it sound super pretty, so Bucky shrugged and gave the go ahead.

After a whole lot of time—version after version of a prosthetic being attached and detached from Bucky’s left shoulder, with thousands of tests—Bucky _has_ that fully-functioning prosthetic. He’s finally without all of the doctors and scientists, and can finally get himself into some sort of life. _Ready_ to do so.

Which thus far has meant applying to different sorts of security jobs, not hearing back from them, and hitting a whole lot of dead ends.

That is, until today.

His phone’s shrill ringing sound manages to jolt Bucky awake from where he was sleeping half-on-half-off the couch, despite it being muffled. Which means the phone is in the couch cushions. Bucky throws those somewhere behind him, and quickly swipes to answer the call.

“James Barnes.”

“Good afternoon, James Barnes. This is Nick Fury calling from SHIELD Security.”

Bucky does a fist pump, because SHIELD Security is exactly the job Bucky is qualified for, and the company advertises a salary that would allow him to make rent, _and_ it’d be a job that would keep him from sleeping in until… what time was it? 3pm.

“We’re very interested in bringing you in for an interview. Your resume is impressive, so the interview would just to be to determine if you’re the right fit for the job.”

“Thank you, sir. When would be best?”

“If you’re available, would you be able to come by the SHIELD headquarters in an hour?”

Bucky doesn’t even need to check. “Yes, sir. I will see you then.”

“Very good,” Nick Fury says, and then hangs up. Bucky figures that a guy with the name ‘Nick Fury’ probably isn’t the kind to say goodbye anyway.

He has an interview!

Which, Bucky realizes, means he needs to look presentable.

He whirls off of the couch, leaving the cushions on the floor in disarray, and into the closet in his bedroom. Admittedly, there isn’t very much in there. Bucky generally sticks to wearing simple clothes and simple colors. His shirts are pretty much all variations of the same thing, and his choices for pants range from black jeans or blue jeans.

Bucky blinks absently, and gets started.

His clothes end up strewn across the floor in a similar fashion to the couch cushions by the time he’s finished, but Bucky manages to find a dark grey button down (without wrinkles!) to pair with his best looking pair of black skinny jeans, that could pass for slacks if you were far enough away. Once dressed, Bucky heads to the bathroom and begins brushing out the stubborn tangles in his hair. He ends up tying the top half of his hair back into a loose top knot, while the rest hangs free to his shoulders.

Nodding at himself, Bucky leaves the bathroom and grabs his phone from the couch, then his keys from the bowl by the door.

Not very many people have a car in New York, but Bucky finds it useful. His mother left it with him after he decided not to move with her and dad to Indiana, so there’s no payment other than insurance he has to make. And it’s cleaner than a cab.

Bucky takes a moment, a long breath, and gets himself into the right headspace for an interview.

__

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter how much he prepares himself, because Nick Fury is an intimidating man. 

It isn’t even the eyepatch, not really. But more about how the guy is wearing nothing but black, and his long trench coat seems to be flowing behind him at all times _even when the wind is going the other way_? Bucky might just be making things up. Or there’s something he wasn’t paying attention to in high school physics class.

Bucky sits ramrod straight in his chair across Nick Fury, who’s pulling out and dropping a folder on the desk.

“I’m not going to talk to you about your record, or your resume. You and I both know that I know all about those things. About your position in special ops, about your honorable discharge, about how you worked at a snow cone shop during the summer in high school.” Bucky blinks in surprise at that last one, because _he’d_ almost forgotten about that. “So I’d rather know what you think you could bring to this company.”

“Well, I suppose you are aware that I was very good at what I did in the army. I have an excellent eye for detail and I can easily identify something out of the ordinary. When I’m given a job, I perform it to the best of my ability, regardless of outside influences, which means I have focus. That’s the kind of skillset I would want if I were a client hiring a security company.”

Nick Fury raises an intimidating eyebrow, which makes Bucky feel like he probably said the wrong thing.

“So you’re thinking more about the wishes of the client,” he states, though it sounds like more than that.

“Excuse me if I’m wrong, sir, but isn’t that what we’re here to do?”

Nick Fury hums. “Not exactly. It’s less about the client themselves, more about the overall job we’re hired to do. About maintaining security.”

Bucky deflates.

“However, I think I may just have the job for you.”

“Yes?”

“How do you feel about body-guarding?” 

“I’d be interested?” Bucky furrows his brows in confusion. “But I have no experience with being a bodyguard.”

“I don’t foresee that being a problem. I’ve been tasked with finding full-time protection detail for one Steve Rogers, and it has not been easy.”

Bucky nods slowly, because Nick Fury is looking at him as though he should know who Steve Rogers is, and he definitely doesn’t. Nick Fury seems to realize this and moves on.

“I think you’d be excellent for the job, Mr. Barnes. I will forward your name onto Peggy Carter, and you should hear from her soon. Likely within the day, if I’m being honest.”

With that, the interview concludes. And Bucky seems to have just been hired as a bodyguard.

Exiting SHIELD headquarters, Bucky pulls out his phone and opens a text to his younger sister.

**TO: Becca Barnes / 16:58pm**

Do you know of a Steve Rogers?

__

Bucky spends the night trying to learn everything the Internet has to tell him about being someone’s bodyguard. This includes taking notes as he’s watching _The Hitman’s Bodyguard_ (Bucky swears Darius looks _just_ like Nick Fury, what the hell) and _The Bodyguard_ , but from all the President’s bodyguards he’s seen in various movies, Bucky gathers that he will have to be stoic—be seen but not heard—and keep his client from being harmed.

Which, if Steve Rogers is a bit of a diva like Becca says, might be difficult.

He’s also going to need a suit, probably some black sunglasses too. To look the part.

Bucky really wants this job.

Nick Fury was right to say he’d probably hear from Peggy Carter that evening. She calls around seven.

“James Barnes.” Bucky hasn’t answered a phone with his full name in so long, and this is twice in one day!

“Good evening, Mr. Barnes. I’m Peggy Carter. I received your information from Director Fury, and given his assessment of you, I believe you could be the right guy for the job,” a professional British voice says.

“I’m pleased to hear that, Ms. Carter.”

“As it is, we are on a time crunch to replace Steve’s most recent bodyguard, who abruptly quit earlier this week. Steve has a photoshoot this weekend, so it would be ideal for you to start as soon as possible, you see.”

Bucky thinks for a moment. He needs time to go buy proper clothes for the job, because he doubts it would be acceptable to show up in jeans and a t-shirt. Or in the same clothes he wore to today’s interview. “I would be able to start the day after tomorrow?” Bucky says questioningly.

“Excellent. If you would come by my office at Carter Modeling, I will brief you before bringing you to meet Steve.”

“Thank you, Ms. Carter. I will see you then.”

__

Two days later, Bucky is pulling at the legs of his suit pants. They keep riding up and it’s driving Bucky _insane_. They didn’t do this in the store, so why are they now?

When he steps inside Carter Modeling, he smiles at the receptionist. “James Barnes, here to see Ms. Carter,” he says. The receptionist looks awfully amused, although Bucky isn’t sure why. He decides not to ask. She directs him to Peggy’s office, telling him she’s expecting him.

Bucky knocks anyway, entering when a voice tells him he can. At a desk sits a woman with bouncy brunette curls and fierce red lipstick. She looks him up and down, and her lips quirk up in obvious amusement, just like the receptionist.

Bucky feels his cheeks heat up. It’s gotta the damn pants, Bucky swears he’s going to write Kohl’s an angry letter.

“Mr. Barnes?”

“That’s me,” Bucky says, taking the seat Peggy gestures to.

“I understand this would be your first job as a bodyguard, though Nick Fury seemed to have a lot of faith in you. We’ve had four bodyguards in the past three months, so at this point I’m willing to take a gamble.”

Right to it then.

“Steve Rogers likes to stand up for the little guy, despite being a bit little himself,” Peggy’s smile turns fond. “The issue is, he takes little notice to the kind of press it brings him, or to the impact it could have on his career. Steve is a very popular model, but refuses to be written off as just another pretty face. He’s got opinions, and he shares them. Which has the power to antagonize all sorts of people. Which is why you’re here.”

Bucky nods, waiting for her to continue.

“Being a model comes with all sorts of events: photoshoots, fashion weeks, interviews, designer-sponsored parties, etcetera. These events are frequently out of town, and you will need to follow Steve’s schedule. Some of these events give little notice that doesn’t allow for planning ahead. I would need you to attend these events with Steve and to try and keep him from situations that would land him on the front covers of tabloids. Or to keep him from harm that someone might want to implement, should the need arise.”

“Has someone tried to hurt Steve—Mr. Rogers—before?”

“Not more than an overzealous paparazzo with a camera. We are just covering all our bases. It’s a business full of unpredictable people, Mr. Barnes.” Peggy smiles. “The job isn’t exactly focused on protecting Steve from harm, but more about protecting him from embarrassment or gossip. People love to make up stories, which can be harmful to Steve’s career. Do you have any concerns?”

Bucky purses his lips. “I don’t think so. However, you should know about my arm, I think.”

Bucky removes the glove he’s wearing on his left hand, and pushes the sleeve up in order for Peggy to see the metal arm.

Peggy smiles softly. “There are no problems with you having a prosthetic, Mr. Barnes. Not unless it impairs you from doing your job.”

“It won’t.”

“I will forward all of Steve’s necessary contacts to you, including my own and Nick Fury’s private line. Steve has a shoot to go to in DC this weekend, as I mentioned on the phone. Are you interested, Mr. Barnes?”

“Definitely, sounds like fun.”

Peggy smiles. “Excellent. I will contact you with itineraries as you need them, along with some forms for you to sign before this weekend, which are all pretty standard. For today though, I’d like to take you to meet Steve. So you can get a feel for each other, which is important for you to properly do your job. I’ll take my bike, if you’ll follow me in your car?”

__

Driving behind Peggy allows Bucky to process all the information thrown at him this afternoon. This body guarding job sounds like it’s going to be pretty extensive. Bucky thinks that will be just fine, his family lives in Indiana and he doesn’t have any pets or plants that he needs to feed.

From what Peggy said about him, Steve seems like a guy trying to make the world a bit of a better place. Not like the diva Becca suggested he was.

Peggy stops alongside an average-looking brownstone apartment, and Bucky pulls in behind her. He steps out of his car, hurriedly pulling his pant-legs from where they’ve bunched up _again_. They walk up to the buzzer, and Bucky is surprised when Peggy bypasses it completely. When they reach Steve Rogers’ door, Peggy knocks loudly.

“Rogers!”

The door whooshes open to reveal a lithe man with haphazardly messed up blond hair and squinty blue eyes, being swallowed by a blanket.

“No need to shout, Peggy. I told you I was awake,” Steve Rogers speaks, his voice low and rumbly. He looks to Bucky and hums approvingly. “That’s the ugliest suit in the world, but somehow you still look hot. If you wanna forget about being my bodyguard, you _could_ just join me in bed,” he says flirtatiously, blinking at Bucky through way-too-long eyelashes.

Ooooh, Bucky is in trouble. 

__ 


	3. Steve

“Don’t sexually harass the bodyguard, Steven,” Peggy chastises before letting herself into his apartment. Steve takes the hint and opens the door wider, smirking as the pretty bodyguard blushes darker and stumbles over his own feet in his effort to walk into the apartment.

Steve kicks the door shut and turns around to find Peggy lounging on the couch, while the pretty bodyguard is standing stock straight next to it. Steve raises an eyebrow.

“You can relax, I promise I won’t bite.” Steve considers this for a moment. “Well, unless you’re into that.”

The bodyguard flattens his lips to keep from speaking. Or maybe to suppress a sound?

“ _Steve_ , this is James Barnes. He’ll be your new bodyguard,” Peggy says, enunciating the last word. Steve sighs and joins them in the living room, falling into the cushiony loveseat. As if he didn’t know that already.

“You can call me Bucky.” Steve’s eyes flicker over to Barnes, who looks surprised at himself. “Mr. Rogers,” he adds slowly.

Steve makes a face. “Don’t call me that, I don’t wear ugly ties.”

“There was a time where you complained about not being able to wear clip-on ties, I don’t want to hear it,” Peggy says.

“It’d save so much time!”

“Whatever. You’ll be leaving for DC on Thursday afternoon, given that it’ll just be a studio shoot instead of location, and you’ll stay at the Westin in connected rooms. Other than that bit of separation, Barnes will be with you _at all times_ ,” Peggy says, shooting Steve a sharp gaze.

“Okay, but you’re not going anywhere with me in that suit,” Steve declares, looking at Barnes, who is pulling down at his pant-legs. “We’re going to go shopping.”

Barnes looks scared.

“I believe I’ll leave you to that bonding experience, boys. I’ve got to go meet Nick Fury for lunch,” Peggy smiles and lets herself out of the apartment. Barnes looks after her like she just left him to the wolves.

Which, fair. 

Steve chuckles and stands, shedding his blanket. He smooths down the black leather pants he’s wearing and looks up to find Barnes looking at him with wide eyes.

“You wear _leather pants_ when you’re lounging around?”

“What can I say? They make my legs look great. Let’s go.”

Barnes is still looking at Steve’s legs. 

“If we don’t go now, Sam’s going to laugh at you.”

__

They’re in the third store of the afternoon, and having Bucky try on clothes has yet to become boring. The guy has no idea how to shop, and Steve has heard him muttering about how regular jeans and t-shirts are _fine_ and he doesn’t need to be looking at bomber jackets and _velvet pants_. Too bad for him, Steve’s decided that he loves dressing him up.

The arm is fun to work with too, because it means Steve gets to pick out different kinds of gloves and incorporate them into the outfit.

Steve sips on his ill-advised sugary soda and waits for Barnes to show off something new.

“I don’t need this for work, uh sir,” Bucky says from the dressing room. Steve rolls his eyes at the _sir_ thing that Barnes has elected to call him. When he remembers to, that is.

“Come out!”

There’s an elongated groan, but Bucky emerges from the dressing room clad in a jet black leather jacket atop a black button down decorated with small multicolored polka dots, black skinny jeans and a pair of half-boots.

Steve licks his lips. “I _really_ think black’s your color.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, and goes right back into the dressing room without a word. Steve pouts. When he emerges again, he’s dressed in the light grey t-shirt, red jacket, and white skinny jean outfit he ditched the gross suit for in the first store, but he’s carrying the outfit he just took off along with a couple of other things Steve had him try on.

Steve grins, feeling accomplished. “Maybe you should be the model, and I can just give you clothes to put on all day long,” he muses.

“You can keep listing other things for me to do, but I think I’m going to stick with the body-guarding thing,” Bucky says, sounding amused. The cashier at the counter smiles as she removes security tags from the clothes.

“Don’t think I can scare you away?” Steve asks, swiping his MasterCard. Bucky takes the bags from the cashier and thanks her, and they turn and leave the store.

“I watched you fall out of your chair laughing because of the cheeseburger hat and cheeseburger patterned shirt you made me wear so no, I don’t think you’re very scary, sir.”

“I think you’re just staying as bodyguard because you’re stubborn.”

“Probably.”

Steve rolls his eyes, and then his face gets up close and personal with Bucky’s’ back, because he has apparently decided to just stop walking in the middle of the sidewalk.

“What the hell?”

“Is that you?” Bucky asks, nodding at one of the window posters in a store. In it, Steve’s sitting on the steps of a cemented staircase, giving the camera the typical alluring expression: lips slightly parted, eyebrows flat, eyes fixed on the camera. Steve remembers, it was for one of the spring/summer shoots he did on a rare warm day during the previous winter.

“Oh hey, whaddaya know?” Steve glances over to Bucky, who’s pursing his lips again. Steve kind of wants to bite them.

“You look, uh, good,” he says quietly.

Steve grins, trotting along once Bucky starts walking again. They walk in easy quiet, until Barnes clears his throat.

“So aren’t there supposed to be people hounding you, or something? Following you around?”

“I’m well-known in the fashion industry, but I’m not a Kardashian. I’m not _also_ a celebrity. If I were, I’m sure Peggy would have wanted you to be around me _all_ the time, instead of just at events.”

Bucky nods, a couple loose strands of his hair falling out from where he has it tied back. He curls them behind his ear. “Guess you aren’t as high maintenance as they made it seem.”

Steve whips his head around in mock outrage. “Who called me high maintenance? I’ll have them fired.” Bucky serves him a flat look. “You may be pretty, but I’m not going to go easy on you. I still don’t think I need a bodyguard.”

“I’ll have you know that trying on all of these clothes you picked out wasn’t what I call easy,” Bucky says, holding up his several bags to further his point. Steve stares at him.

“Bucky, what do you think I do all day long?”

At that, Bucky’s pretty blush returns.

__

When they get back to Steve’s apartment building, they linger—Steve standing a couple steps up to be eye-level with Bucky on the ground.

“Thursday, then?”

Steve shrugs. “I guess so. I’m sure Peggy will contact you with the details.”

Bucky nods dumbly. Steve rolls his eyes and sticks a hand out. Confused, Bucky reaches out—shopping bags still on his hand—and shakes Steve’s hand.

“Bye?”

Steve can’t help but giggle. “No, you idiot. Give me your phone, I’ll put my number in.”

“Oh,” Bucky says and reaches into his jacket pocket, bags thumping against his leg. Steve fills out the contact information and drops it back into the jacket pocket.

“Good to meet’cha, though I still wish you weren’t my bodyguard,” Steve says.

Bucky smirks. “I’ll enjoy hearing all your alternate job ideas for me, sir.”

Steve matches Bucky’ smirk and turns around to head back into the apartment.

**FROM: peggy / 6:42pm**

Do you hate him?

**TO: peggy / 6:43pm**

I don’t hate him yet

__

Thursday afternoon finds Steve and Buck— _Barnes_ , he’s working now—sitting first-class on a flight to DC.

Steve heard from Sam this morning, learning that the shoot was going to be focused on the fall/winter line for one of the designers Sam shoots for. Which in Steve’s opinion always has better clothes than the spring/summer lines. The downside of course, is that he shoots fall/winter _during_ the spring and summer months. Posing for long times in sweaters and jackets isn’t easy when it’s hot and humid. 

Steve glances next to him at Barnes, who is up and alert, watching the clouds from the window. He’s bouncing his head along to the music he’s listening to, and Steve thinks he looks like a dork.

He suppresses the smile trying to find its way to his lips, because he _doesn’t need a bodyguard_ which means he shouldn’t start _liking_ the guy, because that would be crazy. It was so easy to hate Alexander. The guy was a grade-A dick.

He didn’t have a cute nickname, and he didn’t blush or bounce his head along to music. Steve didn’t think _he_ was pretty.

The plane ride isn’t very long, so soon enough they’re standing up and pulling their suitcases from the overhead bin. Steve slides a pair of sunglasses onto his nose, and they walk into the airport.

When Steve makes no move to take the sunglasses off, Barnes speaks up.

“Steve? You’re still wearing sunglasses.”

Steve steps out of the way of a man speaking quickly into his phone. “Yeah, so?”

“We’re indoors.”

“It’s my aesthetic, Barnes. I’m getting ready to _work_.”

“You don’t work until tomorrow though?” Barnes says, confused. Steve doesn’t really have an answer for that, so he elects not to say anything.

And if Steve trips over someone’s outstretched shoe, that’s his business.

They find the driver waiting for them on the main floor. She greets them politely, and since neither Steve or Barnes checked in a bag, they get to head over to the hotel right then and there. Steve stays at the Westin every time he’s in DC for a shoot at Sam’s studio, but this will be the first time he has to deal with having a bodyguard with him.

It’s pretty much like having a parent chaperone, Steve thinks.

It isn’t long before they’re standing in front of the doors to their room. Steve swipes his keycard to unlock it and is about to head in when Barnes speaks.

“So we’re being picked up at nine in the morning, but there isn’t anything until then. I’ll be in the room if you need me.” Barnes squints at Steve. “You aren’t going to like, try to evade me or run away or anything, right?”

Steve scoffs. “There’s no point, you’d be able to find me.”

“I would,” Barnes agrees. He unlocks his own door and picks up his duffle. “I’ll see you tomorrow, sir.”

Steve goes into his own room and drops his suitcase onto the bed. He rummages through it to try and find his skincare bag, letting his thoughts wander.

Shopping with Bucky was fun, Steve hasn’t had anyone to goof off with in a long time.

The strangest part about the whole bodyguard thing, Steve thinks, is the fact that he has someone around him so much, for so long. Since he started modeling, Steve’s social circle started and ended with the people in the business. Acquaintances, superficial friendships, polite conversations with models, photographers, and stylists he sees _every now and then_ on photoshoots. His closest friends would probably be Peggy and Natasha.

Friendships aren’t easy to come by when you’ve gotta travel all over the place for shoots and events.

If Bucky were to drop the whole _sir_ thing along with his stoic bodyguard act, Steve thinks they could be friendly.

Maybe throw some benefits in because seriously, the guy checks every box on Steve’s metaphorical list.

But Bucky is _Barnes_. The bodyguard. And given Steve’s track record with bodyguards, he’s probably secretly a douche. Alexander didn’t care about the sleaze-bags like Sitwell who spike drinks. He thought Steve should suck up to them even more because of how successful they could make him.

Steve knows better than to think _Barnes_ is any different, no matter how nice he seems to be.

__

 


	4. Bucky

Bucky is awake by six.

Nerves are apparently a decent alarm clock.

Today’s his first working day as Steve Rogers’ bodyguard, and though Peggy assured him that the shoot should be smooth sailing and without any issues, he can’t help his worry that he’s just somehow not going to be good at the job.

Bucky likes Steve.

Steve is like a pineapple. Sort of prickly on the outside, but sweet on the inside. Bucky realizes that makes him sound like a sap, and even though he’s only barely gotten to know Steve so far, Bucky knows he’s good people.

Peggy says Steve is a wildcard, he runs on instinct—the philosophy of act now, ask questions later—and doesn’t think ahead about any future complications. Which is why Bucky is here. Peggy says that it’s going to be up to Bucky to think about those future complications. Avoid them if possible, run damage control if not.

In other words, being Steve Rogers’ bodyguard is a very _re_ active gig.

Bucky looks into his closet, at his new wardrobe and he pulls out a blue bomber jacket and throws it over his white t-shirt. Bucky glances over at the clock, wondering if he should check and make sure Steve is awake. He tilts his head side to side, debating on whether to knock on his door or not.

Bucky decides to send a text instead.

**TO: Steve Rogers / 8:17am**

You up?

Bucky realizes he hasn’t actually texted Steve before. And that his text makes him sound like a booty call. You know, if booty calls texted in the morning. Hurriedly, Bucky sends a second text.

**TO: Steve Rogers / 8:17am**

It’s Bucky

A sad little whine is heard faintly from the other room.

**FROM: Steve Rogers / 8:18am**

>:(

Chuckling, Bucky drops his phone into his back pocket and pulls on a set of dark blue fingerless gloves. His left arm whirs softly as the plates in his fingers adjust to the glove.

When it nears nine, Bucky grabs his wallet and keycard and leaves the room. He raps softly on Steve’s door, and it isn’t long before Steve’s opening it.

He’s dressed simply, in a baggy white t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Bucky thinks he’d look cuddly if it weren’t for his prominent scowl. Frowning, Bucky notices that there’s no suitcase full of clothes or anything.

“You’re doing a photoshoot in that?”

Steve blinks slowly. “No… the clothes are all at the studio.”

“But how do they get your size right? Do they just guess?”

Steve does _not_ look happy about the fact Bucky is talking. Prickly, like a pineapple.

“They have all my measurements on record. I just show up and put the clothes on,” Steve grumbles. When they reach the elevator, Steve crosses his arms and leans against the railing, letting his eyelids fall closed. Bucky takes the hint and doesn’t ask any more questions.

Downstairs though, there is a driver leaning up against his SUV that is even more awake and talkative than Bucky.

“Mornin’ Mr. Rogers!” Cheerfully, the guy opens one of the back doors, and upon seeing Bucky he shoots a hand out to shake. “I’m Happy Hogan, the _head_ studio driver for Mr. Wilson. Are you modeling with Mr. Rogers today?”

A small laugh escapes Steve and Bucky feels his cheeks heat slightly. This is the second time he’s heard about being a model. 

“Uh, no. Bucky Barnes, I’m Steve’s bodyguard.”

“Oh!” Happy says in surprise. “Well, I’m gonna get you to the studio then.”

__

The studio is much smaller than Bucky was expecting it to be. He thought there was going to be all kinds of different sets and props, but instead theres just a giant white sheet that falls almost against one of the walls and extends onto the floor. There are a couple of standing lights set up to the side, which give Bucky flashbacks of getting his school pictures taken way back when.

On the other side of the room is a vanity along with a bulbed mirror, and a salon chair facing them. There’s another chair next to the vanity, and a rack of clothes is near that, with various pairs of shoes beneath. Steve is there, humming inquisitively as he goes through the hangers of pre-chosen outfits.

There’s a couple of stray chairs, and they don’t appear to be part of any set, so Bucky figures they’re just available to sit in.

Bucky turns back around when he hears footsteps, and in walks two people. There’s a tall black man with a camera around his neck and a beaming smile, and a blonde woman holding a hairbrush and a comb.

“Steve! Why the hell do you get here before me to _my own studio_?” The man asks, and Bucky concludes that this must be Sam Wilson.

Given the way Steve perks up immediately, Sam Wilson has the power to get Morning Steve out from his grumpy shell.

“It isn’t my fault you’re so slow, Wilson,” Steve ribs, meeting Sam for a hug. Bucky walks over, which catches Sam’s attention. He pulls back from Steve and offers a handshake to Bucky.

“Hey man. Sam Wilson.”

“Bucky Barnes.”

“You a friend of Steve’s?”

“Nah, I’m the new bodyguard.”

Sam doesn’t seem surprised at all like Happy was. Instead, he barks a laugh and shakes his head. “You know, I’d wondered when Steve Rogers was going to get saddled with one of those. Figured it was just a matter of time, but I also figured they’d have trouble finding one that could keep up with him. Can you, number five?”

“That’s something _I’d_ like to find out too,” Steve interrupts, and Bucky knows he’s talking about something else entirely.

Both Sam and the blonde woman roll their eyes, almost in sync.

“Your flirting is shit, Rogers.” Sam’s eyes widen in some sort of realization. “Oh, I’m the worst. This is Sharon Carter, makeup and hair. She’s going to make Steve look all pretty.”

Bucky gives her an awkward half-wave. She smiles at him before turning to Steve.

“Steve, you know the drill,” Sharon says, and Steve answers with a two-fingered salute and heads over to the salon chair with Sharon in tow.

Sam rubs his hands together. “Alright, I’m going to go fiddle with the lights, make sure everything’s working. Feel free to make yourself comfortable wherever.”

Bucky dips his head in a nod and walks toward the free chair by the vanity, where Sharon is already cutting Steve’s hair. Adding layers at different lengths extending from the crown of Steve’s head, and even adding in a slight undercut at the sides. Steve seems nonplussed, looking at Bucky through the mirror.

Bucky sticks his tongue out, because he’s apparently got the sense of humor of a five-year-old.

Sharon works quickly, finishing off Steve’s hair with spray to keep it in place. The layers make it look almost wavy, and the undercut removes the bowl-cut appearance Steve had before. She nods approvingly and looks at Steve through the mirror.

“ _Don’t_ mess with the bangs,” she orders.

“I’d never.”

Sharon squints at him and moves onto makeup. She applies a whole bunch of different things to Steve’s face, but Bucky only recognizes the eyeliner and mascara she applies to his eyes. He isn’t sure what exactly all the different powders and cream things are for, but when Sharon spins Steve around, Bucky wants to commend those powders and creams for their work, because…

_wow_

The makeup manages to accentuate all of Steve’s features—his cheekbones, his bright blue eyes, his lips—but not turn them into different shapes or anything. It’s subtle, but Steve looks _good_ and Bucky hasn’t. stopped. staring.

Steve notices, of course. “Like what you see, Barnes?”

Surely this is as much trouble this photoshoot will bring him, Bucky rationalizes.

“Nah, your mug is still just as ugly,” Bucky jests. He worries momentarily about the lack of professionalism, but Steve beams at him.

When Steve puts on the first outfit, however, Bucky wonders why he ever thought he was safe. If black is Bucky’s color, Steve’s is definitely blue.

He’s wearing a deep blue button-down shirt underneath a charcoal grey double-breasted coat, along with a pair of dark, slim-fitting khakis and black half-boots with a slight heel. There’s a lot of color, but the blue is what stands out. 

Bucky nearly swallows his tongue, which almost drowns out the sound of a camera shutter.

But not quite.

When he turns his head towards the sound, Bucky finds Sam pointing his camera right at him. Caught, Sam pulls the camera down and starts chuckling. “I’m sorry man, but your _face_!”

“I hate you,” Bucky mumbles, but there’s no heat.

“Aw, Buck. I’d be taking pictures of your face too,” Steve coos on his way towards the big white sheet. “We gonna get music in here, Sam?”

“Of course, I’m not a heathen.” Sam pulls out his phone and after tapping at it, soft jazz fills the room. Bucky had thought loud pop music was the custom for photoshoots, apparently he was wrong.

Once the music starts, Steve and Sam get right to it. Sam is clicking away, moving around for different angles while Steve moves fluidly thorough an array of poses. From just standing and staring at the camera with a hand in his coat pocket to sitting on the ground, head resting on the crossed arms atop his knees as he doesn’t even glance at the camera.

He and Sam work like they’re dancing—every move Steve makes, Sam is right there capturing it—and Bucky gathers that they’ve worked together many times. For the most part, Steve just poses in the way he pleases, but sometimes Sam will bark out for him to tilt his head some, or to reposition a hand.

Every now and then Sam will pause and adjust the lights, and Sharon will step in to fix a strand of hair or touch up Steve’s makeup. When Sam is satisfied, he sends Steve off to change into the next outfit, and they do it all again.

When Sam decides they’ve exhausted all the standing poses, he brings in one of the stray black chairs for Steve to use as a prop. Which means shots of Steve’s long outstretched legs as he sits on or leans against the chair. Somehow, Steve makes sitting in a chair look hot, and Bucky isn’t sure what to do with that information.

Bucky’s got a favorite outfit too.

A blue and grey flannel coat over a light grey v-neck, a dark blue scarf, black skinny jeans, grey shoes, and a light grey _beanie_. Steve fought hard against the large square glasses, to Bucky’s dismay.

“I can’t believe he’s pairing this outfit with a _messenger bag_ , is Coulson dabbling in the hipster style now?” Steve mutters, walking back over to the set. The messenger bag in question is slung over his shoulder, and is swinging around as he walks.

Sam barks a laugh. “Fight it all you want, but this is a perfect look for you, Steve.”

“It is not,” Steve denies immediately. He looks to Bucky. “It’s _not_.”

Bucky can’t fight the smirk stretching his lips.

“Whatever you say, Steve. Give me some hipster poses,” Sam says, bringing the camera back up to his eye.

Back to business, Steve immediately falls into one, head downturned to look at his feet, a hand shoved into his jean pocket while the other is balled at his side. Sam snaps a few pictures, and then pauses, humming.

“Look up, look straight ahead,” he directs, and then moves to Steve’s side to capture his profile.

“Hipsters never look at the camera,” Steve says, smirking.

“Guess a hipster can’t be a model. Models _love_ the camera.”

With a couple of water breaks in between, Steve models the rest of the clothes in about an hour and a half, bringing the photoshoot to a close.

“You make my job easy, Rogers. Coulson is going to love these.”

Steve takes a bow.

“I’m going to go start sorting through the thousands of pictures of you now, because a photographer never rests. Let me know when you’re in town for more than a day, Rogers. We’ll do lunch,” Sam says, meeting Steve for another hug.

“I’ll be sure to fit you in somewhere. Good seein’ ya, Sam.” Steve heads back over to the clothing rack and starts taking off the last outfit to change back into what he arrived in. Sharon walks up next to Sam, and she smiles at Bucky.

“Barnes, glad you enjoyed the photoshoot,” Sam says with a wink. “Don’t let him get into too much trouble.”

Bucky smiles awkwardly and nods.

“I’m starving. Food?” Steve asks from where he’s apparently standing right next to Bucky.

__

Lunch is an easy affair. Conversation is light, mostly because Steve dodges all of the “getting to know you” questions Bucky tries and asks. After lunch, however, Bucky gets to do more than just hang around Steve.

He notices that there’s been someone following them for a couple blocks since they’ve left the restaurant. Whoever it is is gaining, with the aim to get closer. 

Bucky knows the best option would be to evade, so he looks ahead for an alley.

“There’s someone following us,” he murmurs to Steve, who whips his head around.

“Really? Where?”

“Turn here.”

When Steve turns around, intending to walk _back_ , Bucky grabs his arm and pulls him down the alley.

“ _Hey_!” Steve shouts and yanks his arm from Bucky’s grasp. He levels Bucky with a glare. “I’m not a kid.”

“Never said you were a kid,” Bucky mutters, gaze locked on the entrance to the alley. Sure enough, a pair of heavy footsteps approaches.

In walks a decently built guy with dark hair (shaved on the sides) dressed in ripped up jeans and a white tank top. In other words, he looks like the stereotypical douche.

“Steve Rogers, I thought that was you,” he says, lips stretching into a fake smile.

Bucky glances at Steve and finds him glaring even harder than he was at Bucky.

“Rumlow.”

“I saw you punched out Jasper Sitwell at the Boss party. Got him right in the eye, you know that? I was supposed to have a shoot with him, but he _cancelled_ because of injury,” Rumlow says.

Bucky moves in front of Steve when Rumlow gets closer, but Rumlow cranes his neck around him and continues like Bucky isn’t even there.

“Who gave you the right to fuck with my career?”

Steve scoffs. “That’s right, when I punched Sitwell I was thinking, ‘ _Oh, this is really gonna mess with Brock Rumlow’s career! Goodie!_ ’”

Bucky wants to look towards the heavens, because _that isn’t helping, Steve_.

It does the job, though. Rumlow’s face contorts with anger, and he throws a fist up in the air (thumb under the fingers, really?), and before he can throw it at Steve (around Bucky, what even), Bucky catches the fist—with the metal arm—and turns Rumlow’s attention onto him.

“The hell do you think you are?”

“Pal, you don’t want to find out. I suggest you go try to find some other photographer. I don’t think anyone’s gonna want to photograph a guy saddled with an assault charge.”

Rumlow narrows his eyes and yanks his fist from Bucky’s hand. He looks back to Steve.

“Your fifteen minutes of fame won’t last long, Rogers,” he says before turning and walking out of the alley.

Bucky turns to face Steve, who’s glare has been replaced by a look of… awe?

“What?”

Steve smiles a little and shrugs. “Normally I’d be mad. Rumlow is a tool, I can handle him. But the way you caught his flying fist? Hot.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Steve.”

“With your _metal hand_.”

“Did you really punch that Sitwell guy?”

Steve shrugs again and looks at Bucky warily. “He was spiking a girl’s drink. Thought a punch would keep him from spiking _the_ punch in the future.”

“Kudos,” Bucky smirks. The caution in Steve’s eyes goes away in a blink, and he grins.

“Thanks,” Steve murmurs.

__


	5. Steve

“ _What_?”

Steve stares at the scheduling coordinator, who stares right back at him, not budging.

“You and your bodyguard are going to have to share a room,” she repeats. “The house only sleeps eight, and we didn’t have time to come up with a brand new plan to accommodate your plus one.” 

Steve opens his mouth, ready to argue some more, because there’s no _way_ this giant house only sleeps eight, but the bodyguard in question speaks first.

“Thanks, miss. He’s just angry from the long travel, we’ll get right out of your hair,” Bucky says tiredly, shooting Steve a glare. Steve snaps his mouth shut, scowling right back at Bucky.

Who isn’t exactly _wrong_.

They spent nearly six hours on a plane from New York to the Vancouver airport, and then an additional _two and a half hours_ driving to Whistler, where the super fancy log cabin/vacation home that they’re staying in is. Also where the photoshoot will be taking place tomorrow.

So yes, Steve is a little bit frustrated. It’s 1am and he’s _tired_.

The coordinator gives Bucky the faintest of smiles and taps away at her tablet.

“You’re going to be in the master bedroom, actually. Second floor, last door on your left,” she says, waving her hand in the general direction of the stairs and not looking away from her tablet.

Bucky thanks her, takes hold of both his and Steve’s suitcases, and makes his way to the stairs. Steve follows behind him, because theres a bed that promises comfort and warmth and is probably cushiony enough to make Steve feel like it’s eating him.

Steve’s imagining what that bed might look like when he rams into Bucky’s back. Which hurts no less than the first time he did it.

“ _Bucky_ ,” Steve huffs and walks around the jerk who decided to just stop in the doorway. “I might be smaller than you but that does _not_ mean you should just stop in doorways, I swear.”

And then Steve sees what made Bucky stop.

Master bedroom.

One bed.

Awkward silence.

“I, um, can take the chair,” Bucky says, nodding over at the chair alongside the balcony windows. The chair that looks like it is meant for decoration only, and that any butt that sat in it would be super unhappy. The chair that Steve isn’t going to make Bucky sleep in, because that would be something only awful people deserved.

“No.”

Bucky frowns and blinks sleepily. “Okay, the floor then.”

Steve looks to the heavens and sighs. “No.”

Bucky looks at Steve. “I’m not sleeping in the bathtub. You can’t hate me enough to make me sleep in the bathtub.”

Despite himself, Steve chuckles. “I think the chair would be a worse sentence than the bathtub, but no. You’re going to sleep in the bed.” 

“You need the bed! You can’t be in a photoshoot after sleeping on the floor!” Bucky squawks.

Aw.

“We’re going to _share_ the bed, Bucky,” Steve says, finally leaving the doorway and rolling his suitcase into the room. He glances back at Bucky. “I can’t say it’s how I _imagined_ it would happen, but well.”

Bucky seems frozen for a moment, but eventually he nods. “Okay. I’m too tired to argue.”

Steve smirks. “I promise I’m a great bedmate.”

“There is no way you don’t steal all of the covers, don’t even try. _I’m_ the better bedmate, I’m warm.”

Steve rolls his eyes and takes his bag of face wash stuff into the bathroom. He goes about his nightly routine, and when he emerges all dressed down and ready for sleep, he finds Bucky in a fitting black tank top and a pair of dark red boxer briefs, pulling back the bed sheets.

Steve stops in his tracks, because a view like that should be appreciated. Bucky Barnes is the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome.

“Underwear model,” Steve says. “Do the underwear industry a favor.”

Bucky doesn’t even turn around, instead choosing to actually drop himself into the bed and curl up into a ball. It’s cute, really. He’s much too big to be a ball.

“No.”

Steve sighs forlornly, and walks to the other side of the bed. It really is cushiony and soft, Steve thinks as he pulls the sheets up to his chin. He reaches an arm out, shuts off his lamp, and lets his eyes flutter shut.

“G’night, Steeb,” Bucky mumbles.

“Night, Bork.”

__

Steve’s warmth is _leaving_.

It was ripped away from his legs, and now the rest of it is trying to move.

Refusing to open his eyes or to wake up enough to see what’s happening, Steve just moves to where the warmth _was,_ and nuzzles contentedly into still-warm sheets.

“Steve.”

Steve is about to drop back off into dream-land, so he doesn’t really notice when his pillow is stolen from him.

“Ha!” … “Why are you _sleeping_ I stole your _pillow_.”

Steve is allowed one blessed moment of silence before there’s something bright flashing across his eyelids. Opening an eye, Steve sees none other than Bucky the _fucker_ aiming his metal arm _just right_ to reflect the sunlight into Steve’s goddamn eyes. Upon seeing Steve awake, Bucky grins.

“Finally!”

“I hate you,” Steve grumbles and rubs the sleep from his eyes.

Bucky barks a laugh. “No you don’t, not with the way you were spooning me last night.”

Steve pauses and scowls at Bucky, feeling a blush bloom on his cheeks. “I do not _spoon._ ” 

There’s no way. The bed is huge. _Why_ would he be spooning Bucky?

Bucky winks at him.

Steve does _not_ spoon.

__

Downstairs, there is a guy making omelettes.

His name is Luis and he chatters quickly about things that Steve isn’t awake enough to process. Luis doesn’t seem to mind, though. He just keeps on going. Something about Baskin-Robbins and hot dogs and _great idea_.

While Bucky is waiting on his food, Steve turns to the main table to find some familiar faces. And an unfamiliar face.

“Steve!” Clint Barton, photographer, exclaims upon seeing him. Steve’s worked with Clint almost as much as he’s worked with Sam. Clint may not always know what’s right in front of his two feet, but he does take great pictures. Next to him, a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed boy grins brightly at Steve. There’s no way he’s lead anything, so maybe a model?

“Hey Clint, who’s your friend? New model?”

The boy blushes and laughs awkwardly.

“Nah, this is Peter Parker. He’s my photography intern. Snatched him up before the others could, because he’s a whiz with the camera.” 

Steve nods. “That’s cool. Hey Peter, I’m Steve Rogers.”

“I _know_ who you are, Mr. Rogers. You’re everywhere these days.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, but turns his attention to his omelette. Minutes later, Bucky joins them, which sparks yet another “Steve got saddled with a new bodyguard!” conversation, which Steve mostly tunes out. The kitchen is soon flooded with people, all serving different roles for the shoot. Steve makes his polite hello’s, but the only one that grabs his attention is the last one to enter the room.

“Good morning, friends!” a familiar voice booms. Steve notices Bucky tense beside him, but a smile is already on Steve’s face when he looks up and sees Thor Odinson.

Thor Odinson is also one of the most in-demand models in the business. Every designer wants to work with him, because he’s got one of the most distinctive looks. Tall, super built (to where some think he’s on steroids), with long blond hair that stylists love to get their hands on and photographers love to make look majestic in a breeze.

Only, it looks like Rapunzel cut off his hair.

Now, Thor is sporting a choppy brunet crew cut, with two lines razored messily into the side.

“Thor!” Steve rushes out of his chair—with Bucky scrambling after him with a mouth full of food—to launch himself at Thor, who catches him in one of his trademark bone-crushing hugs, causing Steve to groan. “What happened to your hair?”

Thor seems perfectly content to hold Steve above the ground. As it turns out, Steve doesn’t mind much either.

“There was this small old man at this retro shoot with a razor in his hands and he says to me, _’Now don’t you move’_ , and then he laughed maniacally before cutting it off!”

“Steve…?” Bucky asks, sounding worried. Admittedly, Steve completely forgot that Bucky even followed him. He raises an eyebrow at Bucky’s concerned gaze, at the way Bucky’s hands are twitching anxiously by his side.

Once Thor sets Steve back down, Steve turns to Bucky, who is still glancing up at Thor warily. Steve sighs.

“This is Thor Odinson, he’s a model.”

“Steven is right!” Thor confirms and claps Steve on the back, which causes Bucky’s eyes to widen in alarm.

“Thor, this is James Barnes, he’s my bodyguard.”

Thor grins. “A valiant protector, I am sure.”

Bucky…puffs his chest out? Like an offended bird. “Yes,” he agrees, nodding definitively.

__

There’s a much larger crew for today’s campaign shoot. Set designers, wardrobe consultants, hair stylists, makeup artists, a lighting crew, you name it and it’s probably in that house somewhere. There’s a whole lot of photo consultants, seeing as the photoshoot includes both Steve _and_ Thor, and that height difference can be made to look ridiculous if they’re set up the wrong way.

Steve has just finished makeup when Bucky walks back up to him, munching on what looks to be a plum. Upon seeing Steve, his brows pull together and he squints speculatively. Steve squints right back at him, waiting for Bucky to figure out whatever he’s trying to figure out.

Which apparently involves looking right at Steve’s lips.

“Are you wearing lip gloss?” 

Steve grins and purses his lips, which are indeed accentuated by thick strawberry-flavored gloss.

“He looks good, no?” Steve’s makeup artist, a woman with extravagant green eye makeup asks from where she is cleaning her brushes.

“Oh, um. Yes. Very good,” Bucky says, and then cringes a bit. 

Steve smirks.

__

As Steve suspected, the first bit of the shoot is taking place in the main living room. With its very large windows, its deep brown leather couches, and its stone fireplace. A very pleasing room to look at, and certainly one that screams fall.

Steve is dressed in a pair of tight dark wash jeans, a charcoal grey sweater atop a white collared button down, and a black leather jacket to finish. He’s laying across the couch, one leg bent and resting against the back cushions while the other is straight. They’re waiting on Thor to get out of wardrobe, so Steve is playing with the dark midi rings on his fingers while Clint and Peter are discussing the issue of the sun being too bright.

“ _Steve_.” Glancing up, Steve locks gaze with his wardrobe specialist, Wanda Maximoff. She does not look happy. “Quit playing with the rings.”

Effectively chastised, Steve twists the rings back to front-facing.

“Yeah, Steve. Quit playing with the rings,” Bucky repeats mockingly from his place behind all the cameras.

Steve flips him off.

Bucky just laughs.

Thor walks in dressed in a loose light grey (except around his arms, damn) long-sleeved shirt and dark grey jeans, with a pair of brown half-boots. Steve looks to Bucky, figuring he’d catch him looking appreciatively at Thor too, only to see him looking at _Steve_. When Bucky realizes Steve’s caught him, a dark red blush crawls up his neck.

Steve smirks. Apparently his attraction to his bodyguard isn’t one-sided.

“You’re torturing the man,” Thor says, from his apparent spot on the arm by Steve’s feet. Steve didn’t even notice him get there.

“I’m just laying on a couch, Thor,” Steve says innocently. Thor chuckles, shaking his head.

They’re not given any more time to chat, because as soon as Clint realizes Thor is dressed and ready to go, he’s clapping his hands and telling everyone to get into position. A shoot like this is much less intimate than ones like Sam’s because of the sheer amount of people present, so Steve elects to block everything out but the camera and Thor.

Much of the start of the shoot keeps Steve on the couch while Thor moves around him—going from the end, in front of, and behind the couch—so all Steve does is periodically adjust the way in which he’s laying, Which is actually sort of difficult, because laying on a couch doesn’t allow for very many flattering angles.

“Steve, try moving onto your side, palm flat against your cheek and holding your head up— oh shit no. Loose fist instead!”

“Bend your knees up? … That looks weird, go back!”

“I think we’ve exhausted this part of the shoot. Let’s move on.”

Thor and Steve go back to hair and makeup for retouching, and then they each head to their wardrobe specialists. Wanda sets Steve up into a new outfit—a pair of khakis and a fuzzy grey sweater with sleeves that are slightly longer than his wrists—and removes the rings from his fingers.

This outfit change ends up being the final one for inside the house, and they focus it on the fireplace with the stone wall. This time both Steve and Thor alter between sitting and standing, posing around the fire and the stone wall.

Steve is sweating.

Clint must realize that he can’t keep them around the fire for too long, because he is moving things along much faster than when they were in the living room.

It’s a relief when he calls for lunch.

__

Steve’s eating in the living room when Bucky sits down next to him.

“Having fun?”

“I always forget what a draw the fireplaces are for the fall photoshoots. Especially the ones with real fire. I guess that looks better than the electronic fireplaces in pictures, but it wouldn’t be so _hot_.”

“Electronic… like the flickering paper ones? You want those?” Bucky’s mouth twists. “I don’t think they would work as well as real fire.”

“Electronics can do some amazing things these days, Barnes,” Steve says. Bucky still looks confused.

“Steven! James Barnes!” Thor boasts, walking towards their couch. He sits directly next to Bucky who, in an effort to put some space between himself and the guy he just met, scoots directly up against Steve and _wow_ that’s one muscular thigh.

“Hey Thor.”

“Did I interrupt something?” Thor asks with a grin, waggling his eyebrows.

“No?” Bucky looks confused again. “We were talking about fireplaces.”

Thor looks disappointed. But then he gets a glint in his eyes. “Fireplaces are cozy, aren’t they Steve?”

Steve shrugs, unsure of where Thor is going with this. “I guess, when it’s not summer.”

“They make you just want to… cuddle up to someone?”

Steve understands now. Thor is trying to be both wingman and matchmaker, with the aim to get Steve and Bucky together.

“I’ve heard of people who put a video of a fireplace on their laptop and then cuddle around _that_ , so I guess they do.” Bucky sets his now-empty plate on the coffee table in front of them before settling back into the couch, with an arm thrown around the back. Behind Steve.

Thor looks absolutely giddy.

“A laptop fireplace can’t produce warmth. What’s the point?” Steve asks, subsequently ignoring Thor’s weird excitement.

“Weren’t you _just_ talking about how an electronic fireplace would have been better today _because_ it doesn’t produce warmth?” Bucky asks in bewilderment.

Steve flattens his lips because his own damn self has just killed his argument.

“Good on you, Barnes! It is very difficult to beat Steve in an argument.” Thor winks as he stands up. “I will see you on set, Steve!”

Steve and Bucky look after Thor in confusion and in slight bewilderment.

__

Steve is heading back over to makeup when his phone buzzes in his pocket. 

Sam Wilson has sent several photos of Bucky from the day of the photoshoot at his studio. A couple are closeups of his face, others are from a further point of view. All of which show Bucky looking right at Steve when Steve wasn’t looking.

Steve opens the photos in full screen for a closer look.

What he concludes is that Bucky was looking at him. With _interest_. This was their first event together, and Bucky was already looking at him like that? Apparently while Steve’s been upfront about his attraction, Bucky’s kept his on the down low. When Steve hasn’t been looking.

Steve is about to text Sam back with his thanks for the information when a new series of photos come through.

These are all of _Steve_.

Not shots of Steve for the clothing photoshoot, oh no. These photos are candid of _Steve_ looking at _Bucky_. Which Steve didn’t even realize he was doing that day? In addition to that, Steve knows what he looks like when he’s looking, at someone with sexual interest, and these aren’t even that.

In these, Steve’s got quirked up lips in _fondness_. He’s got _sappy doe eyes_. In these photos, Steve’s looking at Bucky like he’s the most adorable kitten on the planet. Like he’s charmed by the guy.

In other words, these photos make it look like Steve had the starts of legit feelings for Bucky Barnes, the bodyguard.

“Oh shit,” Steve murmurs. 

**____ **


	6. Bucky

The second chunk of the photoshoot is outside, and Bucky looks over at the crew carrying the photographer’s equipment with sympathy, because surely that can’t be very fun. He supposes this photoshoot is in the right place, because it’s sure as hell easy to believe it could be fall when its barely even sixty degrees.

Bucky pulls his jacket tighter against his torso as a gust of wind blows through. Next to him, Steve is shivering due to the fact that his jacket is essentially no more than a slip on, and Steve is no match against the wind blowing through these giant trees. Bucky decides that Steve probably needs his jacket more than he does when Thor beats him to the punch by wrapping an arm around Steve’s shoulders.

Bucky scowls.

Stupid Thor.

Steve and Thor look all happy and warm now, and Bucky points his scowl forward and wonders when they’re going to _get_ to wherever they’re going. All of these trees look the exact same, and Bucky doesn’t think that is going to change no matter how far they walk away from the house.

Apparently the thing the photographer was looking for is a clearing with giant fallen tree covered and surrounded by overgrown grass.

“Yes, here we are!” Barton announces, and immediately people branch off to go set up their own mobile stations while the guys with the equipment start setting the things down around the clearing at Barton’s direction. Bucky follows after Steve, who is waved over to hair.

Steve was mostly made up and ready to go before they even left the house, so the hairstylist mostly just does what he can to set Steve’s hair in place to keep it from moving too much.

“He is nice to look at?” Bucky startles, _because when did Thor get here_?

“Uh, what?”

Thor smiles, as if he knows something Bucky doesn’t. “Steven.”

“I mean they take pictures of him in clothes so I guess he’d have to be?” 

“You watch him a lot.”

“I do not,” Bucky sputters.

“It is okay! Steve has a tendency to barrel into a life and make an impression.”

Bucky blinks and considers this. The arm around the shoulders, and now the strange talk about Steve? Is this some weird “back off of my boyfriend” speech? Bucky doesn’t like that idea very much.

“So, uh, you and Steve?”

Thor barks a laugh. “No, no. Nothing like that. Do not worry, as far as I know, Steven is single.” Thor winks. Bucky will not admit to the strange sense of relief he feels at the confirmation. That would be unprofessional.

“Good to know,” he says anyway.

“ _Very_ good,” Thor agrees, nodding slowly. Bucky thinks there might be some hidden instruction behind those words, like Thor might want Bucky to do something about Steve being single. Bucky doesn’t get the chance to ask, though, because Barton calls Thor’s name.

Thor leaves Bucky with a grin and a wink.

__

Bucky sees Steve approach the tree with some trepidation.

“There’s nothing living in this tree or anything, right? Nothing gonna jump on me?”

“The tree has been properly suspected, Rogers,” Barton says. “Now go lean against it, we’re burning daylight.”

Steve walks awkwardly through the tall grass that is almost half his height, but he does join Thor, who is already sitting on the tree. Bucky sits in Steve’s travel chair, out of the way of anything that may or may not be living in the overgrown grass.

Bucky watches the photoshoot for awhile. It’s interesting seeing Steve and Thor having to use a dead tree as their main prop, especially when they move and have to get residue from the tree removed from their clothes. Bucky imagines it wouldn’t be very easy to try and advertise clothes with tree dust all over them.

Barton has just had the equipment adjusted so he can start shooting from a side angle when Bucky feels his phone buzz with a text. 

**FROM: Becca Barnes / 15:12pm**

Are you doing anything exciting? It’s so boring here and I need to live vicariously.

**TO: Becca Barnes / 15:13pm**

I’m in Canada watching Steve’s photoshoot

**FROM: Becca Barnes / 15:15pm**

In other words no, you aren’t doing anything exciting

Bucky glances up when he hears a strangled noise come from Barton. There’s some kind of bug flying around his face, and he’s trying to get away from it when he trips over his own feet and crashes into the grass.

“Clinton! Are you okay?” Thor asks, craning his neck to try and look at Clint from the tree.

Clint pops out from the grass with a grin. “I didn’t break the camera.”

Bucky relays this scene to his sister.

**FROM: Becca Barnes / 15:21pm**

Wait. Thor Odinson is there???

**TO: Becca Barnes / 15:22pm**

Yes?

**FROM: Becca Barnes / 15:25**

Sleep with that specimen of a man. Do it for me.

**TO: Becca Barnes / 15:28pm**

Thor thinks I should get with Steve.

**FROM: Becca Barnes / 15:31pm**

Do you want to get with Steve?

When Bucky doesn’t answer, Becca texts him again.

**FROM: Becca Barnes / 15:37pm**

!!!!!!

Your life is way more interesting than ‘just watching Steve’s photoshoot’

__

“So is that it? Is the shoot over?” Bucky asks Steve as they walk back to the house.

“We’ve been doing this since morning. It’s almost dark. We’re finished,” Steve says, raising an eyebrow.

It’s even colder out than when they came out here in the first place, so Bucky takes the opportunity to throw an arm over Steve’s shoulders. He catches Thor smiling excitedly at them, and Bucky can luckily blame the ensuing red in his cheeks on the cold. He’s prepared to tell Steve that he’s just being a good bodyguard, but Steve never asks.

Instead, Steve just burrows in closer to him.

“There will be many amounts of food at the house! Made by Chef Luis! After that, things will be finished until the launch party,” Thor says.

‘Many amounts of food’ is correct. Bucky is hit with the scents of numerous foods when they come back into the house. He looks to see a long stretch of table piled with colorful foods that remind Bucky of a potluck dinner, only with much better food. Despite having been tired the whole way to the house, Bucky feels himself perk up. 

Steve slips out from underneath Bucky’s arm to go straight to the plates, and Bucky immediately misses his warmth. Bucky follows after him, and piles his plate high with foods that look good. He takes much longer than Steve, but Bucky finds Steve waiting for him at the end of the table. 

“Careful, someone might think you like me or something.” Bucky grins.

“I’m pretty sure everybody thinks that. Not like I actually want to run you off anymore,” Steve says quietly.

Bucky doesn’t reply, because even if he would call himself and Steve _friends_ , he sure as hell never thought Steve would ever let go of that part of himself that didn’t want a bodyguard. Even one he might be friends with. So, this admission is a pretty big deal. It feels like the final barrier between them has just broken down or something.

“Not gonna come up with job alternatives for me anymore?” Bucky finally says.

Steve sighs wistfully. “I still think you would be a wonderful underwear model.”

“I think the metal arm would take away from selling the underwear.”

“Nobody is ever looking at the _underwear_ if the model’s hot enough, Buck.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and turns to his food, though he knows Steve has a point. Barton’s intern—Parker— comes and joins them eventually, chattering about how cool all of this is and gushing about how excellent Steve did in the photoshoot. He does the same to Thor when he joins them on the couch. Bucky catches a strange interaction between Steve and Thor when Thor looks at him expectantly and Steve just shrugs. This makes Thor look disappointed.

Bucky wants to wipe that look off of his face because honestly, it could break hearts.

“So Thor, what’s your plan for after this?”

Thor brightens, and talks about how he will be home in Australia until it’s time to come back out for the launch party.

“You’re going to fly out to the US just to go to a party?”

“We have to go to the parties, they’re great for networking and making business connections. It’s just another form of working,” Steve says.

“Plus, it’s my first debut after my hair was cut, and that will make for an excellent entrance,” Thor adds.

“The _launch_ party.” Parker looks panicked. “I have to _go_ to that.”

Thor pats him gently on the shoulder.

__

It isn’t before too long that the not-party starts winding down. Those who aren’t staying in the house leave, and those who are begin retreating to their rooms. There’s a clean up crew taking care of the food and trash, but other than that there are only a few stragglers still hanging around.

Steve is practically falling asleep here on the couch. Every now and then he will jerk out of it and look around, as though trying to remember where he is.

“Alright Steve, let’s go.” Bucky stands, and Steve basically falls over from not having Bucky there to support him.

“What?”

“Bed, Steve. Come on.”

Steve follows after him, and Bucky catches Thor’s gaze from where he is chatting with Steve’s makeup artist from today. Thor sees Steve trailing behind Bucky and he winks. Bucky looks heavenward and keeps walking.

Steve makes quick work of his nighttime routine so he can get into bed quicker, and he is already curled up and breathing evenly when Bucky comes out of the bathroom. When Bucky settles into bed himself, Steve must notice the movement in his sleep, because he moves and cuddles right into Bucky’s side, a stray hand settles on Bucky’s ribs. Just like he did the night before.

Instead of tensing up and overthinking about whether he should move away from Steve _like_ he did the night before, Bucky simply shuts the lamp off and closes his eyes. Whatever happens will happen and all that.

__


	7. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the end, guys!! I hope you love the last chapter. a few things :) 
> 
> I had an absolute blast writing this fic and collaborating with people who helped make it happen!! 
> 
> [steve-rogers (aka moblit)](http://steve-rogers.tumblr.com) made the _phenomenal_ art pieces that started this whole thing. I was so lucky to be able to write a fic for her art!! she was a wonderful collab partner, I had so much fun tossing ideas back and forth! 
> 
> [dracusfyre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracusfyre/pseuds/dracusfyre) betaed this fic! thanks for working with me, you help me learn to make my writing better. you're one of the best!! 
> 
> and to my group of OG's--thanks for being there to scream with me and for always being there to help out <3
> 
> finally--thank you to the mods of the CAPRBB!! you all are so prompt and helpful, and you made this a wonderful bang experience.

It’s the night of the launch party, and Steve feels _nervous_.

It isn’t the event. Not the models or the actors who will be there, and not the designers or the photographers either. Steve has been to too many of these launch parties to be nervous about them. No, Steve feels nervous about _Bucky_.

He’s staring at his reflection, at the outfit he’s wearing—black slacks and an asymmetrically designed long sleeved shirt with a high black collar—and he’s wondering if Bucky will like it. Steve isn’t even sure _why_ , it’s not like he’s cared whether Bucky’s liked the things he wore before, but Steve is acting like a kid with a crush. Which, he guesses is exactly what he is.

Despite Thor’s attempt to be matchmaker or Sam’s pictures, Steve didn’t actually let himself admit to anything until he was in his damn bed the night they got home from the shoot and found it difficult to sleep, even though he was tired into his bones. It was pathetic, really. Steve had only shared a bed with Bucky for _two nights_. It shouldn’t have changed a thing. And yet.

Steve had called him up the next day for coffee. Bucky had bags under his eyes, and he downed the coffee as if he hadn’t slept either. Steve tried not to think about whether or not Bucky might have been missing him too. Sam’s pictures showed Bucky is _attracted_ to him, but that doesn’t mean he wants to cuddle up in bed or by a laptop fire with Steve. Which is apparently what _Steve_ wants.

And now it’s launch party night.

Steve sighs and heads into his living room, flopping down on the cushiony loveseat. There’s some show on tv, but Steve has no idea what it is. Looks to be something about superheroes. Steve starts tapping his foot after a moment, and wonders when the car is going to get here.

**TO: buck / 7:11pm**

Where are you

**FROM: buck / 7:14pm**

ETA three minutes

This car has phone chargers

Steve rolls his eyes and gets to his feet. He grabs his coat, wallet, and apartment key before leaving his apartment. When he gets downstairs, a typical black SUV is just pulling up. Steve opens the back door and sees Bucky sitting there smiling.

“Hey, Steve.” Bucky looks delectable in one of his black bomber jackets, a black fingerless glove wrapped around his left hand.

“Hey.” Steve slips in next to Bucky, willing the fluttering in his belly to go away. 

The drive isn’t very long, since the party is just at the Stark Tower downtown. Which automatically means that the party is going to be a big deal. Stark never goes halfway with his launch parties. Steve’s never even met the guy, and he’s been to parties at his tower several times now. Sometimes Steve thinks meeting Stark is the last step before he becomes a full fledged model. As though he isn’t already.

When they pull up in front of the tower, Steve pulls a pair of sunglasses from his pocket and slides them onto his face.

“Sunglasses again? Why don’t you wear them at normal times? Steve it’s dark.”

“I have to make a proper entrance, Bucky.” And he does, seeing as there are photographers behind actual rope and post barriers. Stark’s launch parties are more like celebrity galas in some ways, Steve will never understand.

Steve pushes the door open and walks to the doors with his coat hanging off of his shoulders and his arms crossed. Bucky keeps close behind him, and Steve ignores the flashes of cameras and the questions people yell out about Sitwell and who Bucky is.

 

 

When they get inside, Steve slips his sunglasses back into his pocket and they’re directed to the elevator by the receptionist. Once the elevator doors are closed, it automatically starts taking them up the many, many floors. When they open again on the party deck, they reveal the launch party in full swing. There’s people everywhere, dressed to the nines in perfectly-tailored and well-designed outfits.

“Oh my god,” Bucky says softly.

Steve spots Peggy standing with Natasha over by a fern, so he starts walking their way.

“Steve, great to see you.” Peggy pulls him in for a friendly hug. “And Bucky, nice to see you too. Next to me is Natasha Romanov, she’s a publicist for my team.”

Natasha smirks in reply.

“So who’s all at this thing?”

“Given that you’re involved in the launch, you’re going to have to make your rounds and talk to pretty much everyone. So it looks like you’ll be able to find out,” Peggy says.

Steve sighs. “Better get started then.”

__

Steve does make his rounds. He chats with Bruce Banner (designer, friend of Stark’s), Stephen Strange and Wong (editing team), Scott Lang (production), Jack Rollins (model, super skeevy), and several more, whose faces all have blurred in Steve’s mind since the night went on. Bucky had started the night right at Steve’s side, but as time’s gone on he’s put some distance between them. Enough not to be hovering, but still to have an eye on Steve at all times.

When Steve reaches the bar though, Bucky joins him.

“I see what you mean about this being a work function.”

Steve orders a vodka tonic, and Bucky raises his eyebrows when Steve drinks about half of it right there. Steve shakes his head as the alcohol burns through his throat. 

“Aw, come on. Surely they can’t be that bad to talk to?”

Steve turns to him. “You tell me, you stopped hanging with me after Rollins.”

“I only have a small amount of time to give to douches, and Rollins was using it all up. I have to keep some left in case I have to save you from one. Or worse, talk to one myself.”

“Okay, fair point.”

Bucky suddenly grins and leans in. Steve blinks in surprise. “Since you’re on break and all, how about we go dance?”

Steve furrows his brows looks around the room. “Bucky, nobody is dancing.”

“So?”

“Because _nobody_ dances at these things,” Steve says slowly. He isn’t entirely sure he could survive seeing Bucky dance, either. Probably not even if he’s a terrible dancer.

“Maybe it’s like a middle school dance. Everybody sits awkwardly in their chairs until someone gets the party started.

“I’m not gonna stop you if you wanna go dance by yourself, Buck,” Steve says and turns back to the drink that the bartender has kindly refilled for him. Steve’s going to need more alcohol in him before he can go back and start networking again.

He turns around in his chair to see Bucky with Peggy of all people, dancing in one of the clearer areas of the floor. And holy hell, it should be _illegal_ to move like that. Steve can’t tear his eyes away from Bucky’s hips, which are swooshing side to side with the music.

Steve downs the rest of his drink before he can swallow his tongue.

“You should be dancing with him.” Steve whirls around in his char—oh fuck, _dizzy_ —and sees Thor leaning across the bar top.

“Oh. Hi, Thor.”

The bartender sets a couple of drinks in front of Thor, who winks at Steve before taking them. “Don’t be stupid.”

Steve isn’t sure what he means, because he isn’t being stupid right now. He’s just having a couple of drinks before he has to talk to industry people is all. Which he supposes he should be getting back to. Steve slips off of the barstool and stands still for a moment, because the room is spinning again. Alcohol works fast.

Steve is maneuvering towards the outside deck when his name is called. He turns around to see Alexander the Douche with none other than Brock Rumlow. Naturally, Steve laughs.

“Oh my god. I dunno how I didn’t expect this. You two are perfect for each other.”Brock looks like he’s fuming, but Alexander nods in agreement.

“Mr. Rumlow takes his career very seriously. More seriously than you do.” Steve lets the jab slide, because _his career is doing just fine, thanks_.

“Got that photoshoot with Sitwell rescheduled. It’s going to beat the hell out of the one you did here,” Brock says. Steve is ready to retort, but he feels a hand against the small of his back.

“Hey, Steve,” Bucky says. “These guys causing you trouble?”

Steve is drunk enough to only focus on one thing, and that’s Bucky’s hand on his back (!). Alexander however, locks on Bucky immediately.

“You’re his new bodyguard, then. Gotta say, you should get out while you can. Go to someone better, because this one is a handful. Not worth our valuable time.”

Steve feels panic rise in his chest, because he doesn’t want Bucky to think he’s a handful. He doesn’t want Bucky to _leave_ him.

“I have no idea what you mean. Mr. Rogers hasn’t given me any trouble at all. I’d be careful about spreading lies about people. It could end up painting you as pretty _discreditable_.” Bucky smiles, but there’s nothing friendly about it. “Have a nice evening, guys.”

Bucky guides Steve to an empty hallway, away from Alexander and Brock. He comes around in front of Steve and leans in close. “You okay?”

Steve is staring at Bucky’s lips. He just insulted Alexander Pierce. For _Steve_. He isn’t going to leave. Steve can’t think of any good reason why he shouldn’t be kissing him right now. So that’s exactly what he does.

It’s clumsy and off center, but Bucky’s lips are soft against Steve’s. It only lasts for a perfect moment, because Bucky backs away. He looks sad.

“Steve, you’re drunk. You don’t want this.”

Steve frowns. “Yes I do.”

“Okay, well you don’t want it the way I want you.” Bucky sighs, and he isn’t looking at Steve anymore.

Steve is confused. Bucky just said he _wants_ him, but he isn’t kissing him. And he still looks sad. This isn’t a sad thing.

“ _Yes_ , I do,” Steve says, enunciating each word slowly.

Bucky runs a hand through his hair. “Let’s do this then. If you still want this with me tomorrow, then we can talk. But for tonight, I think we should get home. Been here long enough, I think.” 

Steve isn’t very happy about this, but he nods.

__

Steve wasted no time in getting to Bucky’s apartment building the next morning. He woke up with a headache and a whole lot of memories, the important one being that Bucky wants him but thinks Steve doesn’t want him back, and immediately Steve was on the move.

Now, he’s pressing the buzzer over and over again, wondering why the hell Bucky isn’t _answering_.

“Holy shit, yeah I’m here,” Bucky’s tired voice crackles over the intercom.

“Let me up.”

Bucky says nothing for a moment. “Um, okay.”

As soon as he hears the door unlock, Steve is walking right in. At this time of morning, there isn’t anybody coming in or out, so the elevator is quick to let Steve in. His arms are crossed over his torso as he waits, but then the doors are opening and Steve is walking.

He knocks on the door and Bucky opens it, looking to have just rolled out of bed.

“How the hell are you awake with how much you drank last night?”

Steve walks into the foyer. “Two things. First, how the hell can you think I don’t want you? And second, you said we could talk about it.”

Bucky sighs and walks to the kitchen. Steve follows him. “I didn’t say I don’t think you want me. I don’t think you want me the way _I_ want _you_.” 

“What’s that way?”

“More than just sex, Steve.”

Steve sighs and drops the tension he was holding. “I don’t want that anymore. I mean I _did_ , at first. But not after Canada. I’m not very good at keeping you at a distance, Bucky. Especially since I apparently like you so much.”

Bucky is smiling. He walks back over to Steve and stands in front of him, and Steve steps in so he’s closer. “You like me.”

Steve tilts his head up and rolls his eyes. “I have a giant ass crush on you, Barnes, now will you _kiss_ me?”

He does. And as great as the memory of the one Steve instigated last night is, it’s no comparison to _this_ one. It may be no more than a press of lips, but it’s soft and there’s a sense of beginning with it.

Steve pulls away this time, and they grin stupidly at each other. “Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“You can tell Peggy.”

Steve kisses the look of fear off of his face. 

__

“We’re dating,” Bucky says nervously.

Peggy turns her piercing gaze onto Steve, and Steve feels a little offended, because it isn’t just his fault. “Steve. You run off your first four bodyguards and now you’re dating your fifth. Do you not know what a bodyguard _is_?”

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find us on Tumblr!
> 
> [deceptivesoldier](http://deceptivesoldier.tumblr.com)  
> [steve-rogers](http://steve-rogers.tumblr.com)


End file.
